


The Snowball Fight

by mollswinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Snowball Fight, Winter, destiel ficlet, this is really fluffy and kinda silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollswinchester/pseuds/mollswinchester
Summary: For the prompt: we were having a snowball fight and you were walking by and oh my god i accidentally just hit you in the face I'm so sorry.





	The Snowball Fight

So maybe it wasn’t a great idea to have this snowball fight right in the front yard, but this is the first year Dean has hosted the Christmas get together for his family and he wants everyone to be satisfied. So naturally, when his niece and nephew, Mary and little Bobby, asked if they could have a snowball fight, Dean couldn’t refuse. Of course, it hadn’t helped that his own daughter, Grace, had used those irresistible puppy dog eyes on her dad--they were the last things he saw before he caved. 

So about 30 minutes pass by and the entire family is going insane. There are no friends, only enemies. Sam and Jess have turned against each other, Ellen has destroyed the kids’ snow fort with a menacing grin on her face all the while, and Charlie has had to carry Jo, her pregnant wife, back to the porch multiple times thanks to how desperate the blonde is to fight. 

Dean and Grace are, undeniably, winning the game. Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t freezing his ass of. His wrists are beginning to burn within the small area between where the gloves end and the jacket starts that leaves his skin bare. His face is drying out and he wishes he hadn’t passed the opportunity to get some proper snow gear like Grace or the other kids. 

“Daddy!” Grace screeches just as Dean is hit square in the forehead with a snowball. Slowly, Dean raises his eyes to find the culprit; his own brother is standing there, a glint of betrayal in his eyes. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters as Sam giggles and runs to hide. Dean doesn’t have much time--he makes as many snowballs as possible within his restraints and then he’s on the move.

At the first sight of his brother, Dean whips one of his snowballs through the air. To his surprise, Sammy is more coordinated than he remembers because at the last second, the tall man drops to the ground and dodges the bullet. 

Dean is too distracted to see where his weapon went until he hears a soft yelp: the victim of the wayward snowball. 

Slowly, Dean raises his eyes to see who the voice belongs to: One grumpy looking Castiel Novak, standing on the sidewalk, holding a brown paper bag of groceries and sporting a face full of snow. Dean almost feels bad. 

The rest of the fighting ceases and Dean has to hold his breath as the man approaches the battleground. Dean slowly backs away from the other man’s glare until he’s standing behind his daughter, who will hopefully understand the unspoken command and stand guard for her fellow soldier. 

“A snowball fight? Really?”

The soldiers are silent, waiting to figure out what to do next. Dean scans the rest of the yard; Charlie lays on the snowy ground, wounded. Jess is holding her daughter on her shoulders, Mary’s arm raised in preparation for an attack. Jo sits on the porch, eyes wide an eager. Big Bobby(they have to specify now that there’s a baby Bobby too) is next to her, Dean’s toddler son Jack in his lap. 

Castiel sets his bag of groceries down on the shoveled and dry sidewalk--Dean can barely see the items inside of it: two boxes of Christmas lights, a can of something that looks like whipped cream, and a package of toilet paper. Is it suspicious? No. Is Dean upset that there’s no pie in the bag? Yes. 

“Honestly, I expected this from you, Dean,” the dark haired man says, “but you, Grace? I thought you were better than this.” Dean looks down to his 6-year-old daughter, happy to see that there’s not a single trace of shame on her face. 

“If my yard is torn up from all of you running through it when the snow melts this spring, you’re all going to fix it,” Castiel says. Dean begins to worry that the man is angry when in a sudden, swift movement, he bends down and creates a snowball, nearly perfect, and launches it at Sam Winchester’s perfect hair. 

“Yay, papa!” Jack cheers from the porch. And with that, war commences. 

Cas runs over to Dean, groceries forgotten on the sidewalk, and crouches down behind their makeshift blockade. The left wing is weak, but there’s no time to fix it now. 

The three of them begin aiming for their enemies but soon enough, they reach a patch of dead grass and there's no more spare snow. They need a plan. 

“What should we do, Gracie?” Cas asks.

Grace doesn’t answer, just moves into the line of fire and sacrifices herself to gather supplies. She begins making snowballs left and right, throwing them and her aunts and uncles and cousins alike. 

Dean stands up, a deep laugh bubbling up from his chest as he puts his arm out to pull Cas up. “You’re such a child,” Cas says, though his smile tells Dean that he doesn’t really mind it. 

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Dean says, pulling the other man close. 

“You’re right, I do,” Cas says, cheesy as ever. He then leans in and pulls Dean’s lips to own. 

Dean gets lost in the warmth of Cas’s lips which have yet to start freezing. This kiss is chaste--close-mouthed an innocent, but Dean finds that he never tires of kissing his husband no matter how sweet and romantic and chick-flicky it makes him feel. Dean grabs the lapels of Cas’s trench coat and pulls him closer, smiling into their kiss...

...Only to be interrupted by an ambush attack from behind. Dean pulls away from Cas and whips his head around to see everyone--even Grace, his own flesh and blood--standing with their hands in the air, releasing their snowballs one at a time. 

As both Dean and his husband are pelted in every part of the body, they rush up to the front porch of the house and run inside as quickly as possible. Even after they’re standing in the warm, heated house, a few snowballs are launched at the door. 

“I think this means you lost, baby,” Cas says, a faux face of sympathy strewn on his face. 

“I should have known not to bring romance to the war,” Dean says, playing along. Cas smiles a beautiful, gummy grin and cranes his neck to kiss Dean’s cheek. 

“How about we make some hot chocolate for everyone to have when they come in?” Cas offers as the two of them begin to dispose of their wet boots and coats. 

“Beverages? For the enemy?” Cas gives Dean his renowned bitch-face. “Okay, fine. Hey, what are you going to do with the groceries you left outside?”

“If the battle ever ends, I’ll go get them back.”

“You didn’t bring a pie,” Dean says. “I asked you to bring a pie,” he frowns, pretending to be hurt. 

“No, but there are some ingredients still in the grocery bags in the car that will help us bake a pie. I figured Ellen might be able to give us some guidance since when we try on our own the pies never turn out well.”

Dean beams at his husband as they enter the kitchen. He pulls Cas into another brief yet passionate kiss and then leans his forehead against the other man’s. 

“Happy Christmas Eve, babe,” Dean whispers, a goofy grin upon his face. 

“Happy Christmas Eve, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holy-hale


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